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Sam watches. He is the warden. He watches and he learns and he grows. That is how he has always been. He may have been one of the original founders of the server, but he never openly participated in the warfare that began to spread through the SMP like wildfire after more and more people joined.
It was strange, in a way, simply watching the events pan out in front of him like a narrator observes a story, watching and telling, but never truly interfering.
And like that he had remained for many years, vaguely happy within his position of the Badlands. Curious, but not passionate, content to watch others fight battles and not participate.
He watches Tommy. Frankly, he watches everyone, but the way the boy acts and laughs and is just obnoxiously loud wasnt irritating to Sam like he expected it to be. It was more endearing.
Sam was not the first to criticise L'Manberg's use of children in war, especially the knowledge that Wilbur was involving his own family, but Sam did not intervene. He, like many others, thought that the adults around them would look after the kids, protect them. He thought others would keep them safe.
Oh how wrong he had been.
Oh how cruel this world had become.
Wilbur was dead, the children had been placed in charge of an entire fucking nation. Tubbo, under the constant pressure of threats and promises of attack, had exiled his best friend, not just from L'Manberg, but the entirety of the SMP.
Sam had been furious. But still he restrained himself and he simply watched.
"Tommy," Sam had said quietly to the boy at the start of his exile, when people were still visiting him, when he had waltzed in with of a newly made shield and the promise of swift return on his lips. "If you need a place to stay, when all of this is over, I'm always open."
Tommy had smiled a tired smile, with eyes that were dull and too old for his age.
"Thanks, Sam." He sounded deflated, like he didn't quite believe that the other was saying. Sam watched him for a moment, his torn shirt, skin bruised and dirtied. Who was looking after this kid now Wilbur was gone?
His father - Phil?
Sam had never spoken to him directly - was in L'Manberg along with the rest of the SMP. The only active person to come and visit Tommy, as far as Sam could tell, had been Dream. Others popped in here and there, but everything had fallen into chaos around the SMP, and no one seemed to have time for the boy anymore.
Oh, someone else will do that. They had thought.
But if everyone says that, no one visits.
A little swirl of guilt settled in his gut when he came to that conclusion, feeling vaguely ill. But if he intervened it could be considered an act of treason, so severe he didn't think even Bad could save him from Dream's wrath.
Self-hatred burned under his skin as he left Logstedshire, an unspoken apology dribbling from his lips and fear fresh in his mind.
...
Sam was not there when Logstedshire was decimated, but he saw the damage, the smoking craters of once-life.
Sam was not there when Tommy joined Techno to commit 'minor acts of terrorism', but he saw the effect of their threats on the citizens of L'Manberg.
Sam was not there to witness Doomsday, but he saw the extent of the utter devastation two almost-Gods had left on the place that was considered a home to so many.
...
Sam doesn't know why he built the prison for Dream. Well, of course, he did know, but it was easier to pretend that he didn't.
The Badlands and the main SMP were falling apart from the seams, their uneasy friendship and fragile allied forces crumbled. Bad had come to Sam in near tears, babbling about how he feared war, how he didn't know how he was going to protect them all.
When Dream offered them a way out, a glue to solidify their comradeship once again, Sam was almost relieved. He was nodding along to whatever bullshit Dream sprouted, eyes gleaming at the almost-mountain of gold and diamond and silver Dream offered him in compensation and payment that he almost missed what Dream had said.
"A prison?" He asked incredulously, glaring down at the blueprints that seemed to glare right back. He traces the rough pencil sketch with a finger. "Why?"
Dream had shrugged, blank mask's beady eyes biting its way deep into Sam's soul, ripping away his barriers.
"Why is none of your concern." Dream brushed him off, stuffing his hands into his pockets like they were discussing the weather, not planning the most secure prison Sam had ever seen. "It's better if you don't ask questions, hmm?" He got no reply. "I'm offering a way out for you and your little colleagues in Bad's cabinet, and I'm giving you money. What more could you want?"
There was a sharp edge to Dream's voice, a slither of impatience that made Sam's gut churn with nausea. He couldn't risk Bad, he couldn't risk war. He had had enough.
Sam pushed down his guilt, set his jaw, and nodded.
The worst mistake he had ever made.
...
Sam rows Dream over to the main Prisom. The blank mask seemed oddly critical today, every second was spent analysing the building. Sam shows him around, gesturing to all of the different alleyways that led to complex cells and up a large spiral staircase to where the Guard's quarters were.
The Warden Watches. He sees how Dream grows smug with arrogance and a confidence of one who knows he has won.
Thinks he has won.
Maybe that is why Sam does not reveal his full hand. He keeps a few of the more secret, harder to access - and thus harder to escape - cells secret. Dream does not ask. And Sam grows a little braver with the adrenaline of keeping a secret from the man who could bring the entire server to his knees. It's thrilling, realising he possesses access and knowledge to things Dream does not.
It's not much, but it is a start.
Sam decides he doesn't want to just sit around and watch anymore.
...
He is there when they rescue the children. He stands behind Punz, trident raised and netherite armour pressing tightly around him in an ever-present hug, thrumming with enchantments. He feels brave, surrounded by his friends and people who are just as strong as he is. Strength in numbers, multiplied tenfold by the people who have come. People who care.
The relief of Tubbo's face makes Sam's heart hurt, and he wonders how close they had been to being too late to save them.
Tommy grabs Tubbo's hand and yanks him backwards, towards the back of the pack of people after grabbing his discs. Sam sees the way Tommy's hands tremble as he grips Tubbo and takes a pick axe from Sapnap, he sees Tubbo blinking back shaky tears as Eret quietly asks him if he's okay as he struggles to get air back into his lungs.
He sees the rage on Tommy's face as he strikes Dream down again and again, and Sam winces.
A child shouldn't even think about murder, let alone kill a man twice.
Sam knows war, he knows guilt. He had been in a server before the SMP, he had participated in things he regrets and now shadows haunt him when he closes his eyes. He wants Dream dead, yes, but he doesn't want Tommy to be the one to do it.
That's why he steps in, placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder and not failing to note the way he tenses underneath his grip.
"Let's lock him up," Sam says quietly, urgently, but his words hold a weight that does not go unnoticed by the people around them. Tommy pauses. "Let's lock him up and we won't have to worry about him anymore." He wants to lift the weight from the kid's shoulders. He wants to see him be happy. "You won't have to worry anymore. Taking someone's last life is something that you won't be able to forget. Not like this."
Killing a man would not solve Tommy's problems. Time, healing and being surrounded people, good people, who care would do so much more good than taking someone's life. Abuser or not.
The others seem content with this solution, Sam knows that none of them really wanted to see Tommy kill Dream, and there's a quiet, tense relief etched on Sapnap's face.
They go home. And Sam lets the people closer to Tommy, the more experienced ones, Eret and Puffy, take charge. He wrangles Dream towards him, slipping him into a pair of hancuffs that are just a little too tight and handles him just a little too roughly as he forces him through the portal towards the prison.
Tommy asks if he can come. Sam studies his face. There is determination there, drawn firmly across his face but deeper, there is exhaustion. Sam says no. He wants to let the boys rest, God knows they deserve it. Tommy resigns, he lets Puffy guide him from the room.
Sam watches. He wonders how close they had been to loosing both kids. He decides it best not to think about it.
...
Sam watches, he learns, and he slowly puts together a rough idea of what happened to Tommy through his exile.
He gets quieter and more fragile as they head further into the prison. His jokes get further apart and he wraps his arms around his arms as he follows Sam through the intricate designs within his Prison. Inside the walls, he is less Sam, he is more the Warden.
He wants to laugh at Tommy's jokes, he wants to guide him out of the prison and the kid does not have to look back. But he is the Warden, and he is silent.
Tommy ducks his eyes at the harsh gaze that Sam lays upon him, hand coming up to instinctively scratch at his neck. Sam tells him not to, perhaps a little too sharply; Tommy snaps his jaw shut, drops his hand and Sam winces.
He splashes the boy with a fire resistance potion and sends him through the last barrier of lava, fighting down the idea that doing so was the worst thing he could do for the boy.
It's not Tommy who calls for Sam, it is Dream, and he is secretly relieved by that fact. He watches as Tommy stands on the pistons and is pulled away from Dream's cell, and the kid has the audacity to turn and wave at the Almost-God.
That kid is so strong, the creeper hybrid thinks.
Sam places a hand on Tommy's shoulder once again as they escape the Prison, breathing fresh air for the first time in hours.
Sam never liked his Prison. He is proud of it, sure, but it stands for all that he has become, how much of a coward he has been. It is tight and cramp in places despite the design flaws and Sam can't help but think that there is less oxygen inside those obsidian walls, he always gets a bit dizzy.
"Are you alright?" Sam asks.
Tommy pauses his rambling - talking about nothing and everything - for a second, turning to face Sam with big eyes almost as though no one has asked him that question in a while.
"Yeah." He says earnestly, and if it weren't for his hesitation, Sam would have believed him. He lets go of his shoulder as the two row back to shore.
...
It is later when Sam rages. When Dream explains all he did to Tommy in exile, through the comm set up in his cell and when Sam delivers his food. He was tells the tale with a twisted glee, an arrogance and pride that makes Sam feel sick. It leaves a bad taste on his tongue all week.
He hears how Dream forced him to blow up his stuff near every day, and his fist tightens.
Dream tells him about how he sabotaged Tommy's party, and Sam bites his tongue so hard he can taste blood.
Sam now knows about how Dream convinced Tommy that they were friends, that no body else cared for him, how he used to hit him on occasion, only when 'Tommy deserved it'.
Sam mutes the comm and feeds Dream nothing but raw, slightly rotten potatoes for the next week.
He turns off the speaker and he feels so angry. Fuming at the unfairness of it all. It burns in his throat and behind his eyes.
Sam can't cry, he doesn't deserve to cry. He vomits into a bin beside his desk. Self hatred bubbles under his skin and he can't get rid of his guilt. It makes him hiss, a warning for impending explosion. Sam takes a breath. Detonating here and now would show Dream that he got to him, here he would be able to hear the explosion. Sam takes another breath. He needs to calm down. He can't help anyone if he's angry.
He should have been there, he should have done more. He had left a child alone with a monster.
He hates how it makes sense. The way Tommy moves now, the way he hunches around himself and doesn't even cry when he stands atop L'Manberg's remains. Like he expected it to happen.
Sam had thought staying with Technoblade would help Tommy, but choosing to go against him was dangerous. And the whole SMP paid the price.
And what hurts the most, is no one else seems to show remorse.
Sam needs to fix this. He has to.
Maybe then the weight of his regret will lessen slightly. If he is there for those kids, for Tubbo and Tommy, maybe he can be a better man.
Maybe.
For now, he must be kind. He doesn't want to be silent anymore.
...
When he next meets Tommy, he's speeding down the Prime Path towards him, almost tripping over himself. Puffy was further down the path, laughing as though she had sent him on his way.
That was good. Sam liked Puffy.
"Sam! Sam! Sam!" Tommy stumbles over his words as he practically throws himself at the older man, shoving a notebook into his hands. "Look! Look!"
Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Look at what?" He asked drily, mouth quirking up in amusement. He peered down at the page that was being shoved into his face, but all he saw was pencilled scribbles.
"At this, bitch!"
"What is this, exactly?"
Tommy drew back, pouting, a little offended at the backhanded insult to his drawing skills. "It's a hotel, duh. I want you to build it for me!"
"Why do you want to built a hotel?" Sam asked after a moment.
Tommy smiled. "Well, now L'Manberg has gone, and Dream's locked up, tonnes of other nations will be declaring their independence, yeah?"
Sam nodded.
"With Independence, comes war. Peoples' houses are gonna get destroyed. And, uh, I'm sorta done with sides and countries and shit. I just want a place I can call my own. And when people's houses are destroyed, they can come and stay in my hotel until they build their houses again and the fighting's over!"
Sam's heart swelled, he felt warm. That was such an innocent, heart-warming idea. The world didn't deserve this kid. Again and again the world, the people around him, broke him down and time and time again Tommy would rebuild.
"Will you do it for me?" He blinks big eyes.
"Sure." Sam says. He can't just offer to do it for free, no matter how much he wants to, recourses need time and effort to gather. "I'll need compensation, though."
Tommy doesn't hesitate. "Okay! How much do you need?"
Sam pretends to count out his funds on his fingers, like he was doing intricate maths within his head. "Like, 32 diamonds?"
Tommy's face splits into a grin. "Fuck yeah! I can do that!"
Sam fights back his own smile. Tommy's excitement was contagious.
Sam watches as Tommy trails about after Phil, and something horrid and cold steadily fills his gut. He doesn't like how the older man, Tommy's father, blatantly ignores him until he needs to tell him off. He doesn't even pause when Tommy almost tips off the side of the path, Ranboo is the one that tugs him backwards when he gets a little too close.
Phil doesn't seem to care, and that makes Sam sad. He knows that Phil took part in the destruction of L'Manberg but he doesn't know the extent of what Phil has done, how utterly shit of a father he has been to Tommy and possibly Wilbur too.
Sam watches, and he learns.
Finally, when Phil demes his son worthy of the diamonds, he hands them over. Sam secretly marvels at the surprise and slightly jarred concern on Phil's face as Tommy grabs the diamonds and runs straight at Sam, pouring them into his arms.
Sam watches as Phil's face then fills with something darker as Tommy pulls Ranboo and Charlie off, babbling about the church. Like he was only being nice to Phil because he needed the diamonds.
"I don't know what you want with my son-" Phil begins when the others have faded from sight and sound.
Sam explodes, not literally, he must be careful about his creeper roots, but in sound. "Son? You lost the right to call him that a long time ago. When you blew up his fucking country."
Phil doesn't seem bothered, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why did you make him pay you diamonds?" He changes the subject.
"I didn't make him pay me anything. He wants to built a homeless shelter, and I need recourses. Nothing more than that."
"If you try anything-"
"That kid has been through enough." Sam cuts him off firmly, using his height to his advantage as he towers over Phil. He hates using his height as a threatening tool, but sometimes it is necessary. "You've put him through enough. Who are you to tell me not to hurt him when you have done so much worse?" Hypocrite, the word hangs silently between them.
Phil grits his teeth and turns around, irritation vibrating through his muscles. He leaves, and Sam takes a moment to sit in his victory. He hopes Phil is angry, he hopes he feels bad. It's the least he can do.
...
Tommy looks nervous when Sam proposes the idea of blowing up Skeppy's islands. Which his strange, he figured the kid would be leaping at the chance of arson, it was what he was known for in the old days.
When asked, Tommy looks down at his feet, his excitement at the scaffolding Sam has placed around the perimeter fading slightly.
"The last time I blew up someone's house, I got exiled and shit."
Sam's hands froze. Oh, yeah, of course. They had exiled a kid for just being a child, burning down a house in the grand scheme of the atrocities committed on the server was little more than a blip. Tommy was a kid, he was allowed to make mistakes and George hadn't even been that bothered.
What the hell is wrong with this server?
Sam takes a breath again. He isn't just going to watch anymore. He is sick of just watching.
"Don't worry, Tommy." Sam replies gently. "We can ask Skeppy first, if he get's mad, I'll build him another one. I'll take responsibility."
Tommy looks back at him warily, searching his face like he's looking for deception. He brightens, like he hasn't found anything. Sam is pleased. "Okay!"
He watches Tommy run off, TnT stuffed under one arm and begin the climb up to Skeppy's islands.
Sam wonders when the last people who promised to vouch for him, promised to protect him, was.
...
It hurts, the way Tommy shoves their contract into his arms, with similar excitement in which he treated his hotel blueprints.
Sam peers down at it, green eyes drifting through every statement inside the book, each written surprisingly neatly for a boy who's hands were nearly always trembling with overflowing energy.
It all looks good, regular statements that most contracts includes - Tommy must have done his research. He pauses by the end. "Awesamdude must protect TommyInnit?"
Tommy hesitates for a second too long. "Yeah, like, you keep me safe and shit." He ducks his head, ears flaming red.
The fact that Tommy had been screwed over so many times that he felt the need to write it down on a legal document makes Sam angry once again. Sam's heart clenches, turmoil raging in his insides. He presses a calm look onto his face. He is a creeper, he has to stay calm.
"Cool, yeah, I can do that."
Sam watches as Tommy plops down on the side of the prime path, swinging his legs over the edge as he typed furiously on his communicator.
"Who are you talking to?" Sam asks, peering over his shoulder.
Tommy paused his frantic typing, shoulders sagging a little. "Phil." He says quietly.
Sam doesn't say anything, but his heart does ache as he sees the little 'read' notice under Tommy's message that had been types in caps lock. Sam's frown only deepens when Tommy scrolls up and shows Sam the plethora of unanswered texts in which Phil had left his son on read.
Didn't indulge his son in the one positive thing in his life after abandoning him.
...
Sam slaps a hard hat onto Tommy's head. Tommy does not flinch, for once, and Sam softens as the boy grins up at him.
"Hard hats, only!" Sam barks and Tommy lets out an explosive cackle. "If you don't have a had hat, you're not allowed onto the construction site. That's the rules!"
Tommy burst into a more bubbly laughter - so loud and light in a way that Sam had not heard from the boy in months - and Sam tosses another yellow helmet into his arms, for Tubbo, whenever the boy arrives back from Snowchester.
Something sweet bubbles on Sam's tongue as Tommy babbles on and on, raking through the chest and surveying the construction, his large helmet pushing hair into his eyes and making him look oven more goofy. Tommy looks like a kid, like he hasn't a care in the world as he dances atop the stone Sam had put in place. He wishes for Tommy to stay like this, in this purgatory of happiness for just a moment longer.
Bad comes along the path towards him, and Sam reaches for his trident. The demon is followed by an avid Ant, who's once emerald eyes have bled to a magenta that doesn't look healthy in the slightest.
They walk weirdly, Bad holds himself all wrong and strides with a little too much confidence. Ant doesn't look like himself, his face dark with focus.
Sam prays they don't see Tommy.
He doesn't know what's wrong with them exactly, he doesn't know how to snap them out of it, but he does know that they should not involve a child in their creepy egg cult.
They do.
Bad's face slips into a sickly sweet grin as he hurries up the path towards them. Tommy meets him half way, grinning at the two as Bad pulls him into a hug. He doesn't seem to notice their shift in behaviour. Tommy has never really liked the Badlands, but his circle of friends is getting smaller and smaller.
Sam stands his ground a little further back, one hand on his trident, another on his sword. He is glad for his ambidextrous limbs right about now, able to wield two weapons.
He doesn't like Bad, not like the way he used to. Gone were the affectionate calls for language, the slightly manic laughs about possible plans for gaining more territory for his Badlands, the dreams of ruling the server that will never happen, and none of his friends care that it will never happen because they have each other.
What remains of his friends are shells, husks of what they once where, now tyrants and soldiers for whatever this Egg wanted them to do.
"Tommy!" Bad says excitedly, holding Tommy in the hug for just a little too long. "How have you been?"
Tommy subconsciously fights his way out of Bad's grip, wrangling himself from his limbs and smiles.
"I've been alright, big man! Building my hotel with Sam!" He points back at the taller man and Sam hurries down the steps to join them. When the demon's eyes land on him, Bad's smile becomes strained, a little too wide as they stare each other down.
"So nice to see you again, Sam." Ant says, taking control of the situation. Tommy glances between them, not as tone-deaf as he leads people to believe.
He hurries to change the subject and Sam is grateful for just a moment.
"So, uh, what is this gunk that's spreading through the SMP?" His tone is light, but there is something underneath, hidden by curiosity and Sam can't quite distinguish it. His breath catches in his throat. Don't bring up the vines, Tommy, oh God, don't bring up the Egg.
Bad's shoulders relax again and he swings an arm around the blond's shoulders. Sam's skin crawls, but he can't make a scene. Bad and Ant were professional hunters in their prime before the server, they probably still were. He doesn't want to risk's Tommy's safety. Then again, Tommy would be even more in danger.
Sam watches, mind whirring.
"That isn't gunk, Tommy." Bad chastises like he's talking to a five-year-old. "Those are just the vines. Don't they look pretty?" He says it more like a statement than a question. He points to one large hulking vine, stained a crimson red and twisting in on itself like a writhing snake.
Tommy shuddered. Sam noticed, and Bad must have too, as he turned back to Tommy again and gripped his hand. "Do you want to see the Egg?!" He sounded almost hysterical.
Tommy took a step backwards, sneaking a glance at Sam. "I mean," He began, looking to him for approval. Sam gives him a minute shake of his head. Tommy looks back at Bad. "I'd rather not."
Ant does not seem pleased, he clutches his sword and Tommy's eyes dart to it immediately. Sam hates how his eyes always watch the weapon more than the person, like he fears everyone will hurt him.
At this point, that is a fair enough assumption.
"C'mon, Tommy!" Bad whines, tugging at Tommy's hand like an eager child. "The Egg is good, you don't need to worry. Come and have a look, yeah?"
Sam clenches his fist.
Tommy blinks again. "I mean, yeah, why not? I don't want the vines to spread up my hotel, but I'll go and check it out, I guess."
Bad's twisted smile grows so wide it seems to almost peel off of his face.
"Wonderful! Follow me, if you would be so kind."
Sam watches them go, Ant pulling Tommy down the prime path. Again, only watching. Cold dread pools in his stomach, Sam flicks open his communicator.
Awesamdude: Don't touch the egg directly. Don't trust Bad and Ant. Wear a hazmat suit.
TommyInnit: Whatever you say, big man
And Sam can only pray.
...
Sam almost drops his trident when he hears Tommy scream. Sam spins and squints against the sun, heart starting to pound. Tommy is running so fast he's almost tripping over himself, his own trident clutched in his hands and his hair dripping wet from his fast get away. He's clambering up the hill towards him.
"Sam!" He screeches, voice breaking. "Help me! Fucking help me!"
And then Sam sees them, Bad and Ant, whizzing through the air on their tridents, spinning so fast that Sam cannot distinguish their facial expressions but from the way Tommy is running it does not seem friendly.
Sam dives forward, over the side of the prime-path and pulling Tommy towards him, gripping Tommy's wrist as they both clambered back into the construction zone. Tommy cowers behind him as Bad and Ant catch up.
He flexes the trident in his hands, adrenaline roaring in his ears and he lunges forward, the edges and points of his trident mere inches from Bad's throat as the demon pauses his assault.
"Sorry, boys." Sam says coldly, ever present of the way Tommy was taking frantic steps backwards and scrambling into the construction sight. "People wearing hard hats only. No hat, no entrance."
Bad and And exchange a glance, and, to Sam's surprise, they actually do back off. Ant mutters something to Bad, too quiet for Sam to pick up and Ant's pink eyes flash with malice, he eyes Tommy up like he is prey. Sam steps to the side, blocking Tommy from their views entirely.
Once they're out of sight, Sam spins around and kneels beside Tommy. He places a firm, steady hand on his thin shoulder.
"Are you alright?" He says, the worst bursting from his lips before he could properly process what he was saying. "Did they hurt you? Oh, God, did you meet the Egg? How do you feel, do you like it? Do you hate it, please say you hate it, it's not something you should like, trust me-"
"Sam!" Tommy says loudly, interrupting him. Sam falls silent in worry. He places his hand over the creeper hybrid's, and smiles, albeit a little shakily. "I'm alright, I promise. And the Egg didn't make me feel anything, to be honest. I just felt like an idiot when I stood on it."
"Really?" Sam asks sceptically.
Tommy grins. "Yeah! I'm a big man, that egg hates my guts now and shit."
Sam relinquishes his grip and offers a hand to Tommy. He gets to his feet, legs rather shaky with relief. Sam feels more shaken up about the entire ordeal than Tommy does, but, then again, Tommy had trained himself to hide his emotions time and time again, hadn't he?
"I'd rather have you feeling dumb than turning into some mush-brained egg fanatic."
Tommy arches his eyebrows. "Jesus."
Sam barks out another laugh. "Yeah. Glad you're safe, kid."
"Thank you for protecting me." Tommy says quietly as Sam takes a moment to tousle the blond's hair. His hand pauses as he rakes his hands through it, settling to just place his hand on top of Tommy's head.
Tommy looks embarrassed, almost humiliated, but Sam doesn't care. They can work on that later.
"It's cool. I'll always try and protect you and Tubbo, man. You've been through enough."
And Sam is glad that he moved, he decided to revolt against Dream and forge his own path. He is so, so pleased, grateful to any higher entirety that he didn't just sit and watch.
Sitting and watching would have made him blind.